A Tale of Woman, Man, and Ramen
by Gravism
Summary: The tale of how billionaire Tokugawa heir met the love of his life through a bowl of ramen. A modern AU story of Ieyasu and his historically most beloved concubine.
1. I quit

Welcome! This piece is dedicated to Ieyasu- the honest, righteous young man I grew fond of as the series progressed.

**Three things:**

1) This is intended to be a cheerful, casual, FICTIONAL narrative as opposed to its somber, melodramatic predecessor. So fun and light-hearted I will attempt! It may not be EPIC, but it should be FUN.

2) Teen rating now, Mature rating later- because I'm treading deeper waters with this piece and I don't want ensuing ligation. It's ironically more difficult to write than my former work.

3) Lady Saigo was a concubine of Tokugawa Ieyasu. Historical portrayal of their relationship is very different from the usual "arranged marriage" approach, and so inspired countless hours of planning and cranking of imagination cogs. She is an OC here and not intended in anyway to be historically accurate to the actual Saign no Tsubone.

My second fanfiction- yay! This is a story I want to read- I hope you do as well

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**CH 1: I quit**

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I quit my job.

That's right, in this day and age with fluctuating stock markets, inflated inelastic demands and escalating standards of living in Japan- I QUIT my job.

A sigh against the gray skies. The smell of gingko and willow leaves in the park.

It is not a smart decision, I concede, but I had to. The firm recruited over thirty people and ushered them all on to my floor. Granted, more than three-quarters of their positions will be terminated in a month, but I had to get out of there- it was suffocating!

The aroma of miso wafts down the small cobblestone path I decided to take last minute. It's the sight of bamboo yatai, nestled in a gingko alcove at the end of a winding road that makes it a safe haven. It's a hole in the wall in the middle of nowhere even if I say so myself, but during my university years of searching in Tokyo I can confidently say this place has the best ramen. No one else in this densely populated city seems aware of it though- the place is literally empty all the time, but I prefer it that way.

I smile grimly, rounding up to the tiny food joint. I sincerely hope dinner tonight will assuage the pain of resume-writing and job-hunting tomorrow.

Ieyasu just finished his final lap in the Koshikawa Botantical Garden when the humble food stand caught his eye.

A nonchalant shrug later, he jogs towards it, the squeaking of his trainers against the moist earth. A snack after work out seems fair. He could not say no to ramen, and after a precautionary pull of his bright yellow hoodie over his head, ambles over to the counter.

"Irasshaimase!" The chef calls out the customary greeting.

The younger man waits for a response, and after deciding it was safe when the chef returns immediately to his tasks at hand, finally seats himself. He wasn't sure if the man had taken a glance at him, but all is well.

He orders himself Shoyu ramen. Typical- yes. Understated? No. The balance of Shoyu in the broth had to be just right. Too much and it becomes too salty and undermines taste of the chashu. Too little and it becomes bland and does nothing to compliment the other ingredients. He will find out in a moment.

His order came faster than he expected.

A pre-emptive sip of the broth.

"Hn", he rolls remnants of the soup base off his taste buds.

Better than most, but the collaboration of ingredients is not quite there…

"Ano," he waves to the Chef, a portly man in his forties with a towel tied around his forehead, "do you have any ginger?"

The older man gives him a look.

"Ah, I always have it with ramen," the Tokugawa heir replies, scratching back of his head.

With a grunt, the chef lumbers towards the back, disappearing between blue pieces of noren.

As soon as the man is out of sight, Ieyasu does a quick survey of the coast before vaulting over the counter. He lands like a cat, holds for any response, before plucking out chopsticks to swish away at yellow noodles. It may not be ethical. It may not be courteous, but if he was going to eat, it was better this way.

"Irasshaimase, shoyu ramen onegaishimasu" the young lady mutters, plopping on to her seat before the ramen counter. Her eyes fixated on her lap, with shoulders drawn down.

Ieyasu glances at her fallen expression, quirking an eyebrow.

What the…

"I had a tough day," she supplies, as if reading his mind. Eyes still on the ground.

"Oh?" More out of small talk than intrigue. He measures out shoyu on a bowl.

"I quit my office job," she groans, banking forehead onto folded arms. "Yes, I pushed papers like a machine, but don't get me wrong- it wasn't a bad job. But the problem is that it's over-crowded."

He sips from a spoon. Almost there- needs a little sake and then scallion garnish later to balance it out. "That sounds like bad news."

If Ieyasu was cooking up a storm, she would not know. "Yes, so now I am jobless and I have to look for another soon…I wonder if I can manage to pay rent this month," she grumbles, drowning in her own misery.

Ieyasu manages to pour the final product of his labor over a bowl of ramen when he hears shuffling from the back.

Damn it.

With an adroit flick of the wrist, he hops over the counter, slipping back into his seat just as the elder man exits.

The young lady cranes her head up. "Is my ramen ready?" Her frustration aggravated by hunger.

The chef bows with a brusque apology before resuming his station by the stove. Ieyasu mindlessly slurps his mediocre noodles as the chef meets the other bowl of Shoyu ramen with a puzzled expression.

"WELL?" She frowns, fingers tapping on the wooden counter.

"Ah, sumimasen!" He nods and hands over the steaming bowl with chopsticks.

The young lady takes a deep, uninhibited, LOUD slurp, and Ieyasu turns away to hide his grin when she compliments the chef.

The poor man could only nod and sweatdrop at the undue glory he received. Or maybe he had made it but his memory eluded him. His wife had always said the years were catching up to him.

"Go-chiso sama!" She inclines her head as per custom after meals.

Ieyasu beams inwardly underneath his hoodie. The sudden vibration in his pocket, snapping him out of his reverie.

A frown on her face when she reaches into her pocketbook. The sad realization followed by an apology.

"I am sorry but the last five-hundred yen I had, I gave to a man today in the park on my way here," she bowed, head at the height of her hip.

The young man answers his phone, more out of necessity than interest.

"That is a problem," the chef deadpans, arms crossing into a fold.

Ieyasu mutters a few words before pocketing the small device. He had seen a man in rags on a bench downing a hamburger on his way here.

Her head still down.

"If you will allow it, I will go to my bank right now and get you the money. It will only take-"

Enough. He's heard it all.

"Oji-san, I am finished too," the youth announced with grin. He stood, reaching into his trouser pocket. "Here's what I have- keep the change. It will cover this young lady's share too."

Her jaw dropped. "What? No, no! It's fine. I can-"

The honk of a car from the main road of the garden.

"Shinpai shinaide," he smiles at her, before heading over to his ride.

She didn't even have time to protest before he ran off.

He waves to her before jogging away.

"You've had a tough day. My treat."

* * *

Shinpai shinaide: don't worry about it.

Yatai: Japanese food stands

Noren: short curtains, Japanese dividers between doorways.

**NOTE: **Had fun? I've always wanted to write modern AU, but I don't know how to feel about this. Hopefully, the first chapter is interesting :D


	2. I restart, return

Hola! I love writing this easy and fun piece. A break from the sombre and melodramatic predecessor. Let's just have fun.

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Chapter 2: I restart, return

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Japan is a country with millions of people, but it's ironic how it is truly so…small. Two weeks later I am at the Ramen shop again, only to encounter the same young man. I order shoyu ramen again and the chef gives me a dubious glance before going about to fulfill the order.

He sits at the other end of the counter, slurping away at his ramen. Our eyes meet.

"Yo," he waves.

"Ah, hello!" I spring from my chair and bow in gratitude. "Thank you for -"

"Think nothing of it," the young man replies with a boyish grin belying his age.

The chef places my order before me and I hesitantly take a seat.

"The ramen here is quite good," he comments, draining his bowl, "do you come here often?"

"Well, I do…"

That is how it started. One benign question after another, leading to laughter- bursting with agreement. I think I spoke more than I ate. Not that I care, but by the time I finish my ramen I find out he's the athletic type who runs exclusively at night to avoid the daytime rush hour and heat.

"Haha, but why is your hoodie yellow?"

Sounds rude, but I am dying to know who would wear a bright, flashing yellow?

He gazes into the horizon, and after much deliberation comes up with a reply. "Pedestrian safety," he winks, reaching for his wallet only to find it missing.

"Huh…I guess I was in a hurry." He scratches the back of his head, much to the dismay of the chef. His wife had warned him of dine and dash customers but he didn't listen. Then again maybe she had not- he can't remember.

For the second time I spring up from my seat. "Daijoubou desu." I assure him with a smile. "I'll buy," and before he can protest, "I started my new job last week. No worries."

He pauses for a moment, before nodding in acquiescence.

"It's a good job," I continue, handing over the cash, "an office job in the city. Still pushing papers but I work inside this large tower with a lot of lights, glass and steel…"

I stop. That's enough blabbering for one day. He's probably bored out of his mind. Why did I tell him anyway?

"Your new job," he begins, one hand on chin, "what do you make of it?"

Nani? What is he asking- as in how I FEEL about my new job?

It's my turn to stare into space.

No one has ever asked me how I feel about my positions. Not even my parents. They applaud me. It is difficult to secure a lucrative occupation in this society. In terms of job competition and standard of living, Tokyo ranks one of the highest in the world.

"It is…" I sigh, my shoulders loosen, "…everything I never wanted in a career, but the pay is good considering I'm out of university less than 2 years."

"You are not from here," he observed, sitting up from his slouched position.

Sharp, very sharp- that is all I can say.

"I came to Tokyo because that is where the jobs are," my laugh as pitiful and ironic as my statement.

"You should do what interests you," the young man smiles. His gaze as even as an untouched lake.

It's my turn to smile, for real. I place my chopsticks down. "Are you suggesting I flee Tokyo, the economic capital of Japan, to start a ramen business in the boondocks?"

"You like ramen," that persistent, infectious smile, even as he silences the vibrating phone he plucks from his pocket.

"You don't?" I counter with a flash of my own pearly whites.

The roaring of an engine in the distant as he gets up.

"Thank you for tonight," he says before heading out, but not before giving me that infectious boyish grin again.

* * *

How was it?

SilverStarlightXD : thank you for your input. that's exactly why I think OCs can be so challenging to create and merge with established characters. I'm not too fond of this OC but let's see where she takes us :)


	3. I focus, I find

I will be away for a while, for details please see notes from Iris. Thank you for your understanding.

This chapter is special for me. There is ALWAYS time to slow down, tune down superficial needs, smell the flowers, hold the hands that held ours and bask in beauty. Life is too short to do otherwise. Have fun and have yourselves a wonderful day. :)

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**Chapter 3: I focus, I feign**

The splash of a puddle as I sprint by, an adamant reminder that my shoes will be ruined for the next few days. I could care less as I weave through a bamboo grove following the winding path.

Kami, I am late! An hour late! I have never been late in the month that we have been meeting up, but it is not my fault. Please, blame my boss.

Yes I said it. It is due to the self-entitled absence of one high and mighty individual that this poor salary woman had to stay after office hours converting English words into algorithms that will dictate potential deficit and profit.

A soft cuss escape my lips as I wrench my bag free from a snagged branch.

But why do I bother- my boss has been MIA since day one anyway.

I reach the clearing, expecting the stall to be closed and my ramen buddy gone -

"Yo," he winks at me from his seat as the chef sets down the bowl at my favorite stool.

"Y-you are still here," I blurted out, sliding into my seat as he sips green tea from a ceramic cup.

I begin to apologize for my tardiness but he waves it off snapping his chopsticks perfectly in half with the other hand. Talk about strong. Can people normally do that?

Long story short, we resume our conversations about trivial things. First the composition of ramen, light pollution, the economy, my job, college and then…

"Did you have a crush on anyone during college?" He asks off-handedly.

Sounds like a deep question, but I was too busy fishing with my spoon for ramen leftovers in the sea of soup.

"I never had the time," I mutter nonchalantly, because the best part was finding ramen minnows that escaped earlier during the meal, "math and numbers kept me busy."

It isn't a good excuse, true, but I had to work hard to survive in this economy. I think I did well for a country girl on her own in the big city.

He turns to me with that bright, infectious smile, but there's a softness to it I've never seen until now.

"Do you have time now?" His eyes as soft as a setting sun in the horizon.

"For what?" I ask between chews of my remnant ramen. Delicious!

"For me."

"ACK!"

The soup goes down the wrong pipe and it sends me into a hacking fit. Spasms of cough racking my thin frame as I attempt to salvage my dignity before his unfazed composure. That same mellow smile still plastered on his face. I am unsure what's worse- his watching me unaffected or my hoping he laugh aloud.

I clear my throat for the final time, and then it hits me. The ridiculousness of it all. We just eat ramen together!

"Hahaha! What?" If he isn't going to laugh then I am. "You don't know me," another wave hits me and I'm on the verge of tears, "I don't even know your name!"

"Takechiyo," he quips with his smile unchanged, "Yours?"

"Oh," I wipe the corner of my eye, wary of the absent surname, "….Saigo."

He asks me how my name is written, and since he made me laugh I decide to write it for him. There is no pen so I use the tip of my chopstick and dot the kanji on napkin with soup. There is nothing you can't do with a bowl of ramen.

"Ii namae desu," he nods, tracing his fingers over the soup calligraphy just before his phone goes off. He picks up and murmurs a few words before slipping it back into his pocket. Again, in the distant, an engine roars just like it does on prior nights.

He tells me he has to go, much to my dismay, but that he would like to see me again. Using a different napkin and his chopstick, Takechiyo-san pens some numbers before dashing off.

I sit there with a salty, damp napkin and a ramen cook grinning at me like a moron. What a night.

I read the series of numbers, ultimately deciding to never call Takechiyo-san despite the swing in my feet and warmth on my cheeks.

Come on, we're just ramen buddies.

* * *

**SilverStarlightXD: **Aww thanks- so sweet of you. there's her name now. I do not like this OC, ironic, but that's the beauty of OCs. We don't have to like them :D Let's find out who the gundam-er, engine is though!

**Keys: **Nothing can kill me, I am impervious to all mortal trials and tribulations. My work however, is more fragile than wisps of cotton and if I am to weave a durable sweater out of them they need the time and attention. I'll have a beautiful sweater to present to everyone yet. ;)

**Guest: **thank you for your kind words. I am glad it brings you joy. Let me know how this one goes because I tread some new, deep waters here. I can't swim.


	4. I deign, I deny

Hello all! After traveling abroad and starting a new position, I am back! The world is a very different place than it was to me a year ago, but I digress. The stories will go on!

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**Ch 4: I deign, I deny**

It's good the pillow is down-stuffed, because it is taking a lot of punishment.

"Arrgh!" I grunt, renting a fist into the cushion before catapulting it fast and far on to the couch.

"We are not dating!" I scowl in a hollow attempt to refute an ignorant co-worker's claim.

It's true. We just chat, eat ramen and occasionally text. Well, I would be texting if it weren't for Keiji's leering over my shoulder at the office. In addition to sporting flamboyant shirts and ties, spouting blasphemy and flirting, my co-worker also excels at recon. Leads me to wonder what he had been in his last life.

The sound of a face dripping, because in this large apartment, there is no one to sanction my claim- my side of the story.

I don't care. Friends do that, and sometimes when we are so full we take walks in the park. During the walks, he would show me the best places to skip stones by the lake underneath the full moon. He's a great teacher and a natural at it, but I suck. IF I am lucky the rocks will make it to the water, but when he throws them- they leap, vanishing ad infinitum.

My frown turns upside down.

Friends hang out- they do that.

I sigh, plopping down on to the cushy couch.

There was a time after ramen when a stray dog scurried out of the bush. I did not know it was a dog. All I saw was a flash of black before my body decided to jump out of its own skin and bury itself behind Takechiyo-san's arm.

Stop.

Friends do that- they protect each other.

I start to swing my legs draped over the couch's edge, arm over my eyes. Well, more like he protects me, especially since he volunteered to walk me home. He said a girl should not be walking home alone in the dead of the night.

I catch a glance at the clock on my wall. It was much later tonight than my usual departure, so it makes sense I went along with it. Besides, friends do that- they look out for one another.

My arms cross.

What I don't understand however, and am not inclined to tell Keiji, is that bubbly feeling I got tonight when Takechiyo-san looked me in the eyes by the gates of my apartment complex. His eyes are soft, but I realize they are also sharp. There is a beautiful clarity to the gold tint of his eyes, as if he held no secrets and if I look just a little longer I will come to understand him as an old friend would.

They say eyes are the windows to one's soul. I let a long sigh. But his gaze reminds me of the sun. Of daffodils and a summer's warmth. It's the same warmth I felt when he reassured me after the ninja dog had shown up. Strange, no?

But the weirdest feeling has got be when he turns to leave and -

"Wait! Let's stay out longer…"

I plow my face into the cushion and roar. What the devil was that? What incarnate demon possessed me to say that?! The depths of hell could not hope to match the crimson on my face as I stood there.

"As much as I would like to, you have work tomorrow," he had said, holding out his hand to me.

The same demon must have repossessed me again because I reached for him. The hammering in my chest crushed my voice. I don't know which is worse.

He brought my small hand into his and leaned forwards- just enough for our lips to brush. The moment is short yet eternal, loud but silent. Then he pulled away, clearing his throat.

He scratched the back of his head. " Good night," he murmured before waving a sheepish good-bye like a five-year old.

Somewhere in Japan is a girl who knows the perfect, clever reply, but that girl is not me.

"Ah," is all I had managed, face as red as the Japanese rising sun, because my awkwardness and socially ineptitude afforded me nothing smarter to say.

"ARRGH!" I sling the pillow against a wall next to the clock ticking on to midnight. There is work tomorrow…with Keiji. I groan inwardly, but I know exactly what to say to his taunts.

It was just a show of affection.

Friends do that.

Right.

Right?

* * *

This is MUCH easier to write than "Iris", but I hope it still brings everyone as much excitement and joy.

xoxo

Gravism


	5. I (don't) blame the beer

**Ch 5: I (don't) blame the beer**

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Hello everyone! This was so much fun to write! People have inquired how I feel about OCs. Truth be told they are easy to create, take a lot of work to carry through a story, but a wonderful creative joy to weave into a story with set characters. Saigo is a historical person but she is not to be taken remotely as historically accurate in this piece. It's just a story with no attempt or intention of creative rights infringement, so enjoy!

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**Ch 5: I (don't) blame the beer**

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The television is on but that doesn't mean I'm paying attention. The commercials are quite boring, especially since Takechiyo isn't here to make witty comments about subliminal messages implanting nonexistent desires into one's brain. Absentmindedly, I place the last dish on the rack when the doorbell rings.

I glance over at the clock and a second later the bell rings again. Multiple scenarios play out in my head- the ones that usually air on the minds of single women living alone, and it makes my palms grow sweaty as they wrap around a frying pan when I approach the front door.

There's no spyglass so I crack the door open slightly, poised for action.

"Yo." He grins as I take a step back, more out of shock than anything else.

I say hello as he walks in.

His eyebrows quirk. "Saigo….the pan…"

As if struck by lightning, my arm clamped on the piece of cast iron falls from above my head. "It makes food, with my skills, delicious food," I muttered, attempting to salvage remnants of my dignity.

If there's one thing Takechiyo and I LOVE- it's food. And not just ramen. Spanish, Italian, Chinese, American- I feel like we've traveled the world just through cooking adventures in my humble little kitchen. There are days we spend hours cooking up a storm, and rightly so since he eats like a horse.

He gives me a weird look, because I cannot lie to save my life.

"I live alone," I sigh, locking the door after him. "Caution is the golden rule."

He makes his way into the kitchen without a word. Cue to change the subject.

"Why are you out so late?" He does get driven home before I leave the ramen shop.

"Night jog."

It's my turn to raise eyebrows, but knowing he's not one to tell I decide to take a different approach.

"Or to see me?" I give him the biggest, fattest grin for the lamest, cheesiest question I could possibly ask in an attempt to continue the tease.

He smirks, handing me a beer from MY fridge and taking one for himself. "A bit of both?"

I follow him towards the den, his reply making my steps a bit lighter. Taking them a bit higher.

He plops down on the couch, and I slouch besides him in a manner that would make my prim and proper mother cry.

My whole body feels lighter. Takechiyo has never so much as batted an eyelash at my mannerisms.

We down the cold beer. The finest hops from Sapporo. Enough said.

The commercials come on, blabbing about a Basara Arena Fight that is taking place in the Tokyo Dome. I open another can, discarding the last one to join its comrades on the coffee table.

Why people enjoy watching others beaten to a pulp is beyond me, but I cannot fathom its infectious popularity. Thankfully, Takechiyo snatches the remote and changes the channel immediately to the news covering a conflict between a sun-worshipping owner of a greenhouse and the captain of a fishing vessel. Not great, but I suppose it's better than bleeding, dying men.

Apparently, thirty minutes into the program, the two CEOs are still arguing over ownership to a piece of land by the harbor, but I'm not quite following on the rights to said property because it's hard enough to stop myself from nodding off. My mind says "NO", but my lead-laden eyes say otherwise. Blame the hectic day at work; don't blame the beer.

Vaguely, I feel Ieyasu shift in his seat besides me. It's very warm and maybe it's his doing but at this tired point of the night I really don't care.

But I really do…especially when a drop in the temperature rips me from my slumber. It's cold; so cold I wake up finding myself being tucked in bed by Takechiyo.

"No!" I cry as he turns to leave. He gives me a look at my latching on his arm. "Don't go," my only reason, a whisper against the sheets.

He tells me he will be outside. It will be safe, he says; making another attempt to leave but my vice grip on his arm persists.

"Stay with me." I hear and I can swear it's not me, but that's useless since my eyes begin to blur again after hours of crunching numbers at work. Don't blame the beer, please. He walks away and I protest again only to have him hush me as he opens a closet door in the hall.

Between the cracks of my blurry eyes, he returns sporting a sleeveless tee that I had volunteered to wash for him after that accident with the soufflé. It bared his arms but I've never been one to complain.

I feel his weight on the bed and his arms around me. He smells of clean clothes and something else that makes my mind swirl.

He's asking me questions. I can't understand his words, but it's laced with doubt and uncertainty I feel in my bones. I mutter for him to stay and feel his hand on my cheek, brushing away tendrils of my wild, long hair. A sigh escapes me and I feel him shift his weight above me.

"Saigo," his voice dark and husky in a way I've never heard before, before brushing our lips together.

It's not the first time we've kissed but it certainly feels different. The intensity, the –

My eyes snap open and the gravity of my situation- our situation, hits me like the shinkansen at full speed. Goodness, this cannot be happening! I wriggle under his weight and my hands fly to his chest to open distance between us. My mind cranks at full speed, floundering for words, for a misunderstanding, for an excuse.

"Oh," I blurt out instead, heart hammering in my chest as he remains motionless with infinite patience, gazing at me with those hazy soft eyes that say but one thing.

_Don't push me away._

"I…I…" sounding like broken recorder until my socially inept brain arbitrarily spits out a tiny secret. "This is my first time!"

My hands smother my face to hide the scarlet clawing up my neck. Kami, my brain! It can write algorithms, balance budgets, and manage multi-million dollar securities, but it can't keep one damn secret!

There's a soft chuckIe, and I just want to crawl in a hole and die. Forever.

He pries my hands away and whispers into my ear. It takes me a small eternity to understand his words as he traces kisses down my neck.

"Our first time."

But please, don't blame the beer.

* * *

Food and alcohol catalyzing romance? Sure, why not. Please leave me your thoughts. I had a delightful time writing this but I will have an even greater time reading your reactions. Hehehe.

Lots of laughter and love,

Gravism.


	6. I doubt

**Chapter 6: I doubt**

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Please see my other piece for a heartfelt explanation of my hiatus. If this chapter brings you even a modicum of joy, please let me know. I hope it does :)

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I wake up in tears, my vision more blurry than last night's sequence of events. Last night? Oh Kami!

Sitting up, I pull covers over me.

Somewhere in Japan, there is a girl who gets up and leaves after a one-nigh-stand because she knows it's just….sex. Nothing more, nothing less.

I wrap my arms around my knees.

That girl is not me.

Reality is so bitter.

We were such good friends, but after today I may never seen him again.

I sniffle and the sheets feel like ice against my pale skin.

There's a shuffling.

"Saigo?" His voice deep after a night's slumber.

Oh Kami.

If he's concerned, I would not know.

"Saigo, what's wrong? Why are you crying?" He reaches out for my arm, but I brush him away.

He's worried now, the desperation in his voice clear as day. It confuses me.

"What happened?" I hear the scratching of his head and if I were not drowning in misery, I would think it's cute.

"You will leave me," I whispered in the smallest voice, because I can't bring myself to tell the only man I've ever loved the sad, inevitable truth of modern dating practices.

"Nani o itte iru?" I could feel the frown on his face without needing to look.

"This is the end. Just go," I said bluntly, crystal rippling down the white sheets.

Never have I been one to beat around the bush, so why postpone the inevitable?

"Saigo," my name soft on his lips, his voice a paradoxical hybrid of confusion and understanding, "don't be absurd."

Arms envelop my bare shoulders. His hands are strong, calloused, but surprisingly gentle and warm. With hands that could change the world, he pulls me into his embrace.

I could feel the musk and warmth of his neck against mine and for most women it is assurance enough. Not me.

Determined not to be fooled, I pull away just as daylight broke out. Amber streaks peeking in from the window against the white duvet

How beautiful his eyes were against rays of sepia. Hope? Honesty? Magnanimity? Peace? I can't say what I found, but it's as if all the cares of the world could not fetter the inherent magic of Takechiyo's gaze.

There's a marble in my throat but I still cough up the words. "You will not break my heart?"

Upon my inquiry, he quirks an eyebrow.

The marble becomes a golf ball, just in time for his reply.

One of his hands reaches to brush hair out of my face. He smiles. A foolish boy kind of grin that could outshine the rising sun. He leans forward, whispering into the shell of my ear. "Why would I do that? I just found it."

A wave of relief washes over, drying my salty tears.

Our lips almost meet when my cellphone reminds me that my life is not mine.

Like a wild animal, I fly out of bed and dive for the tiny apparatus on the floor next to my deserted workbag. Ieyasu looks on with amusement as I attempt to juggle the phone in one hand and my bed-sheet dress in another, all the while pacing back and forth during the call.

"Good morning. Yes sir, …Is that so? I see…Yes, I understand… right away." I hang up and tell Sakichi I need to go to work even though it's my day off because the idiot boss of mine called out sick and I have to transcribe HIS briefing for HIS meeting tomorrow.

He gives a smile that could melt the sun, arms pressing against the bed behind him. "You don't have to go."

Ha! And play hooky all day with you?

I roll my eyes at him, dropping the sheets as I walk by, ignoring the drop of his jaw.


End file.
